Reginald Selwyn; or, Lights and Shades of literary Life

Preface

. The object of this work is to strip litera ture, as a profession, of the illusions with which those who are ignorant of a writer's struggles and vicissitudes are too apt to invest it. That such a work may not be useless must be evident to those who frequent literary institutions or debating societies, and are acquainted with the extravagant notions frequently entertained by youths of literature and its professors. With these, the author's position is all couleur de rose, and the false tints which their fancy shed around it have induced many a young man to relinquish

PREFACE.

. IV some ordinary avocation for the precarious livelihood derivable from letters. This, in some cases, is the result of a laud able ambition to soar into a more elevated region of thought and action than the common pursuits of life; but it is a most perilous experiment. It is true, that literature, like other pro fessions, has its rewards, and possesses incen tives and attractions peculiar to itself. Besides, he who embraces literature should not be actuated by pecuniary considerations alone; and a moderate amount of success will realise for him mental enjoyment far superior to gross gratifications or material prosperity. It is something, at least for the fervid and imaginative mind, to escape from the coarseness of everyday life, and breathe the purified atmosphere Avhich thought and fancy create for themselves, far away from the sordid and commonplace. I would not wish to damp the aspirations of youth unnecessarily, or tie doAvn the eagle

PREFACE.

. V wings of genius, and I seek merely to inform those whom literature, as a means of sub sistence, may attract, of some of the trials they may be called on to endure. An engagement of some years in literary pursuits, and the fate of some contempo raries, have convinced me, that few men, whatever their abilities might be, would select literature for a livelihood, except as a dernier resource, if they were conversant with what the writer has to encounter. How many an ardent and gifted spirit has en tered on the path of literature, that, worn out by unrequited toil, and pining hopeless in obscurity and indigence, has sunk at last into an early grave, unnoticed and unknown. Could some of these speak, what a dreary record they would unfold. They would tell of rainbow hopes, of searing pangs peculiar to talent in obscurity, of struggles with sordid circumstances, of want of sympathy, of gaunt and grisly forms of despair which haunted them, and of the disappointment and bitter-

PREFACE.

. VI ness that make up the sum of many a literary man's existence. I trust my Avork will be found not unin teresting or uninstructive. I shall not follow the example of several distinguished authors, Avho in their prefaces have modestly draAvn attention to the defects of their works. In my case, such Avould be quite unnecessary; for it will require but little research or critical acumen to discover that blemishes and grave imperfections abound in the following pages. Being engaged in departments of literature that are arduous and absorbing, it has not been in my poAver to do my subject the justice I could have Avished, and to which, from its merits, it is entitled. A. G. CONTENTS. Chapter Page I. THE LITERARY INSTITUTION .... 1 II. PECULIAKITIES LOCAL AND PERSONAL . 10 III. THE DISCLOSURE AN EPISODE ... 20 IV.

THE DETERMINATION : 52 V. THE DEPARTURE A MEMORY — NEW AC QUAINTANCES 70 VI. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE — PREMATURE DE VELOPMENT 79 VII. CRITICISM A VALUABLE ACQUAINTANCE 99 VIII, A DISAPPOINTMENT 103 IX. LETTERS FROM AND TO E. — THE PROS PECT BRIGHTENS A SCIOLIST . . . 109 X. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW 124 XI. A FRESH ACQUAINTANCE — AN INTELLEC TUAL VAGABOND 152 XII. EVENTS TOWARD AND UNTOAVARD . . 174 XIII. VICISSITUDES CONTENTS. VIII Chapter Page XIV. A MAN OF THE WORLD —THE DRAMA, MIMIC AND REAL 216 XV. NATURAL FEELINGS DARKER SHADOWS ON THE PATH 232 XVI. A GLEAM OF PROSPERITY A VILLAGE TRAGEDY — AN UNINTELLIGIBLE EFFU- SION 244 XVII. DARK SHADOWS 269 XVIII. PROSPERITY — OLD FRIENDS .... 275 XIX. REUNIONS SHADOWS OF THE HEART . 280 XX. A MARRIAGE 292 XXI. THE CONCLUSION ERRATA. Page 16 line 14, for "chastening love," read " lore," Ac. — 18 „ 14, for "goes far," road "go," &c. — 54 „ 6, for " conceive Eve," read " conceive of Eve." 75 „ 14, for "word or question," read "word or gesture." — 110 „ 26, for " Rousseau," read " Petrarch." — 116 „ 6, for " matter," road " matters." — 214 „ 6, for " was determined," read " were," &c. — 223 „ 14, for tovto, read aim), &c. — „ „ 28, omit" of." — 289 „ 9, for " shining," read " shrining." — 311 „ 27, omit " that he." EEGINALD SELWYN: OR, LIGHTS AND SHADES OF LITEEAEY LIFE.

Chapter I. The Literary Institution

There Avas an unusually large assemblage in the literary institution of E , in the spring of 18 — . An essay of some merit, and Avell adapted to the meridian of such an association, was read at the previous meeting, and Avas to be discussed that evening. The subject Avas the genius and character of an eminent writer, just deceased — a meteor of thought and fancy, with all the idiosyncrasy of the poet, Avhose works quickened the pulse of literature in his nativ*e land, but Avhose ec centricities excited the derision of some and the surprise of all. B Upon his scarcely cold remains harsh criti cisms were poured, and many an ungenerous sarcasm was uttered against the eloquent being Avhose voice Avas for ever hushed. The essayist partook of the feelings of some of the scribes of the day, who endeavoured to blacken the moral character and writings of one in whose brilliancy their mediocrity was scarcely visible.

He drew the portrait of something half human, half fiendish, and called it the character of the author. Some exceptions were taken to his criticism, and young hearts that had drunk in the im passioned outpourings of the author, rejoiced to see their favourite vindicated from asper sions Avhich they felt were unjust. However, the vieAvs of the essayist were supported by a veteran debater, Avho possessed all that plausibility and confidence discernible in declaimers of a certain calibre, which are sure to make an impression on an ordinary auditory. His speech throughout Avas a tissue of com monplace presented in an attractive form. However, it Avas effective, and satisfied a num ber of his hearers, that by reading or sanction ing others to read the author's productions they were inflicting a serious evil on morals and religion.

Hoav far the opinion of the literature and logic collected on that occasion might have operated on the author's fame, Ave Avill not pretend to determine; certain it is, that inferring from the importance Avhich the speakers attached to their own sentiments, the discussion of that evening Avas to be con sidered of great moment, some of the more juvenile members going to the extent of assert ing, that the verdict of so intellectual a town as E would set the question at rest for ever, and be ratified by multitudes whose minds were at present undecided relative to the author and his Avritings. One advocate, more chivalrous than prudent, had flung himself into the breach, and endeavoured to stern the torrent of aggression Avhich Avas setting in very strong against his favourite. Unfortunately, he was one of those champions who are sure to damage any cause they undertake ; for though possessing correct instincts, they are deficient in knoAvledge and talent.

He mistook some of the arguments, misquoted, blundered, introduced extraneous circumstances, and committed errors of various descriptions ; indeed he wras a striking illustration of the advantage of being preserved from one's friends. His address had also the effect of B bringing up the speaker before mentioned, who, under the pretence of explanation, am plified and enforced his former arguments, and concluded with some sarcastic allusions, instituting a comparison betAveen Hudibras and the preceding speaker, which told amaz ingly- It was at this juncture that a young man of about eighteen years of age rose, and in a tremulous voice requested that he might be alloAved to offer a fe*v observations. Perhaps there is no more trying situation than when a person attempts to address a public assembly for the first time.

It is a rubicon which no man ever passed without trepidation and feelings of a very painful character. The truth of this is attested by every orator who has recorded his personal experience on the subject. We remember our own first attempt at declamation, and our mental ejaculation to be delivered from the trying position in which, in a moment of temerity, we had un fortunately placed ourselves. Oh, Avhat Avould Ave not have given when Ave Avere conscious of nothing but being the focus of the concen trated gaze of some hundreds of persons for anything which would divert, if only for a second, attention from our unlucky selves ! EEGINALD SELWYN. Had any one fainted, been seized with a violent fit of coughing, let fall a hat or cane, wo would have knelt to him and been his slave eArer after.

In truth, it is a most trying and agonising ordeal, that first speech. The young man in question had feAv of the externals of the public speaker ; nothing of the burly figure or brazen voice of the rostrum. On the contrary, he Avas rather under the middle size, delicately made, and slightly effeminate in appearance. His voice was Aveak, and there Avas a shrinkingness about his manner which at once proclaimed the de butant. For an instant he stood blushing and unable to proceed. Indeed, he appeared about to sit doAvn, when his eye fell on the upturned face and encouraging glance of a lovely girl, whose expression revealed the depth of her in terest in his success. It had its effect. He commenced by soliciting the indulgence of the auditory, stating that until then he had never addressed a public assembly, and in addition to the diffidence of a debutant, he had also the misfortune to differ from the preceding speaker, to whose talent he paid a just tribute.

He then drew attention to the subject. He said, that there were really two questions, though expressed in one proposition, the one referred to mental, the other moral properties. Before they should censure the author's works, they should see Avhether or no they were deserving intrinsically of reprobation ; but to denounce them merely because the writer Avas lax in morals, Avas to violate a fundamental principle of dialectics. What would be thought of an amateur Avho would not use a fine-toned instrument because the maker was an infidel, or who Avould exclude the breathing statue from the studio because the sculptor was a libertine ? There were two subjects for their consideration : the Avorks of the author — the character of the author. With regard to the first, he, for one, admitted, and he did so with regret, that the noble bard had sullied some of his pages with impurity; but the objectionable portions of his Avritings bore no proportion to the numerous works which had warmed the sensibilities, improved the intellect, and purified the feelings of thousands.

Where could there be found greater knowledge of the human heart, more extensive learning, or more beautiful imagery, than in his writings ? Every verse was either sparkling or profound. The spirit of the loftiest philosophy of the ancients was distilled into his pages, and murmured Avith all the grace and melody of rhythm and meta phor — a Minerva in the cestus of Venus. Who could more poAverfully apotheosise the struggles of liberty in the field or the forum ? who could portray more vividly the dawn, the progress, the very pulse of that passion Avhich etherialises the human being ? Avho could sweep with such Avizard hand the very heart-strings, or who could more powerfully fire the fancy or melt the feelings? Having quoted several passages illustrative of the author's style, he then adverted to his moral character.

He said, great alloAvance should be made for men of literature. They Avere necessarily different in some points from those engaged in the ordinary avocations of life. No man ever acquired the Avriter's extensive eru dition and reflecting powers without abstracting himself to some extent from the habitudes and intercourse of his fellow beings* He did not mean that an author must necessarily be a misanthrope or an eremite; but merely that he should subordinate all other considerations to the development of his ideas. Solitude and deep thought, with their consequents of melancholy and over sensitiveness, should excuse occasional departure from amenities of manner. It should also be remembered that the Avriter in question, in the very first flight of his fancy, had felt the fangs of a powerful but unsparing criticism.

Personal asperity, and allusions of a galling character, were mingled in the analysis of his literary merits, and were well calculated to embue with bitterness the glowing mind of the youthful genius. It was true a dark and mocking spirit occasionally broke forth in his conversation and his Avritings; but was it not well known that in private he Avas distinguished for acts of unostentatious benevolence worthy of a Howard. He deplored that some of his acts could not be defended; but was it just or generous to invade the privacy of domestic life and collect household slander to asperse his fame? He contended that the author had not been fairly treated, and that many of those acts which it was sought to blazon to infamy were, like spots on the disk of the sun, visible only from the brightness of the body on Avhich they appeared.

He then reverted to the works of the author, and cited several exquisite and thrilling pas sages, to shoAV that he could not be an infidel in the common sense of that term, and that with such perception of the beautiful and pathetic he must have possessed a deep Avell of love and benevolence. He concluded with a peroration of that impassioned eloquence Avhich gushes only from the lips of youth and genius, and Avhich, like an avalanche, SAveeps everything before its lapse. It was a signal triumph, and electrified the Avhole assembly. At its conclusion, though opposed to the tone of the institution, the young orator Avas greeted with loud applause. The essayist replied, but Avas evidently overAvhelmed by the torrent of thought and fancy he had elicited. His arguments were lifeless and cold after the fervid and sparkling address that preceded, and he was listened to with impatience.

When he had concluded, the question was put to the assembly, and a large majority decided in favour of the young debutant's views. A flush of pride overspread his features ; he pressed the hand of the fair young being by his side, in Avhose eyes trembled tears of gratitude and joy, and they left the assembly. It was the happiest moment of their lives. b CHAPTEE II. PECULIARITIES LOCAL AND PERSONAL. Some years ago there was not a more quaint or quiet toAvn in England thanE . The style of the buildings attested its antiquity, being un profaned by any innovations of modern architec ture. Every dwelling bore the characteristics of the mediæval ages, and" all around breathed of the past. A ruined castle, once the abode of a haughty baron, whose deeds were chro nicled in the local traditions, and exhibited that strange mixture of ferocity, and devotion to the female sex, which marked the high-born in the days of feudalism, was discernible on an eminence near the town.

The church was one of the oldest places of worship in the kingdom, and afforded, in its florid features, a proof of the zeal and piety of our forefathers, which, at the period of its erection, burst forth in the embellishments of the cathedral, and left to succeeding ages those sacred edifices Avhich still stud the land, ancl are valuable, not so much for their architectural beauty, as for being sensible memorials of human feeling developed in a certain direction. The inhabitants participated, in some degree, of the primitive character of their place of abode, harmonizing admirably in their habits with its old fashioned hue and tone. The industry of the townspeople consisted chiefly of the manufacture of articles which required little skill, and their trade was limited to an exchange of their commodities for the necessaries or common luxuries of life.

The gentry in the neighbourhood were not calculated to effect much alteration in the local peculiarities, being, for the most part, persons of ancient descent, but impoverished means, who were bound to the spot by early associations, or who, having wandered there, selected it as a place favourable to the abode of pride in indigence. The only visitors were invalids, to whom accident revealed the circumstance of there being a valuable medicinal spring in the neighbourhood, and Avho sought, in its secluded suburbs, for the health they had wasted in REGTNALD SELWYN. dissipation, or, perhaps, never fully inherited. This latter attribute invested the spot with poetic tints, for frequently on a summer even ing might be seen some attenuated form, Avith sparkling eye and hectic cheek, supported by the arm of a grief-stricken parent or affec tionate child, straying Avith feeble gait along its picturesque and verdant Avalks, or resting upon an eminence, plucking the wild floAvers mechanically, and gazing with listless air on the lovely scenery around.

There, too, might be seen disease in its loveliest form, etherial ising the fair cheek of girlhood, Avhich it ren dered infantile and seraphic; and there might also be witnessed the agonised look of affection, the gathering tear repressed in its fall, which flowed back to sAvell the bursting heart from Avhich it gushed. The sea Avas contiguous, and for salubrity and picturesque scenery there could scarcely be found a more desirable residence than E . The place is now divested of all its rural and romantic traits, being intersected by a raihvay, and having become a flourishing manu facturing town. The old buildings have either heen supplanted, or modernised to an extent that strips them, externally, of all their an tique features, Avhich have become as indistinct REGINALD SELAVYN. 13 as the grim heroes that figured in our nursery lore.

At the period to Avhich Ave refer, it had all the attributes of an ancient toAvn in the heart of a secluded and romantic locality. It was here, and while it retained all these characteristics, that Reginald Selwyn Avas born and resided until his 18th year. At three years of age he was confided to the care of Mr. Merton by his father, Avho died, leaving him, as his only inheritance, the chance of the successful issue of a laAv-suit, the prosecution of Avhich had absorbed his means. However, Reginald had fallen into favourable hands, for Mr. Merton, in addition to being an early and steadfast friend of Mr. Selwyn, was one of those amiable beings whose chief delight consists in benefiting their felloAv creatures, and Avhose benevolence is of a practical, as Avell as diffu sive, character. It is true his means were little more than sufficed to provide the neces saries and some of the common luxuries of life; but then his desires Avere limited, and a bare competency renders such richer than hordes of wealth, because, in reality, opulence flows not from affluent means, but moderate tastes and propensities.

He had obtained high honours at the University, and acquired that affection for solitude and study, which, in some characters, is never eradicated, and often disqua lifies them altogether for the more active pursuits of life. He had embraced the law, as heing the only profession which afforded scope for his attainments, and having mastered the usual amount of legal lore and technicalities, he fancied that he had done all that was necessary to his sucess. HoAvever, he was soon undeceived. He had shone in coteries; but when placed in a law court, with its subtleties, and its glare, he found his faculties entirely suspended, and, for the first time, perceived that even in the learned profession he had selected there were other qualifications requisite than extensive knowledge and pro found thought. lie found men who did not possess a tithe of his attainments, address and dazzle courts for hours, and while his studies ancl his logical acumen enabled him to detect their deficiencies, when called on to refute their arguments all his critical poAvers failed.

He could enunciate little else than abstract veri ties, and Avas utterly void of the self-possession necessary to folloAv, in a coherent manner, the tortuous course of legal debate. It was his misfortune also to have been engaged in eases which displayed most prominently his defects in a very short time he had established the unenviable reputation of a man who had mistaken his vocation. His was not one of those hardy spirits Avhoni adversity cannot daunt, and Avho acquire vigour from the very difficulties wdth which they have to contend. On the contrary, his failures fell with crushing weight on his hopes, and impressed him with a firm conviction that he was utterly unfitted for any active pursuit, and that he should never have emerged from the obscurity of the closet. He also was deprived of a lovely and accomplished wife, who sustained him in his trials, and revived his confidence.

Had she lived, his fate might have been different. There would then have been an object dearer to him than life to struggle for, and adverse indeed must be the circumstances when merit, fostered by the endearments of a beloved wife, will not eventually triumph. These events induced Mr. Merton to retire at once from active life, and to devote himself entirely to the care and education of his only child, Cecilia Merton. It was shortly afterwards that Reginald was entrusted to his care, and participated not only.of his means but affection. To his charge and his daughter he imparted an amount of mental culture rarely acquired, except within the walls of an University, and overspread all their attainments Avith Christian sentiments and the precepts which philanthropy dictates. Under such tutelage it is no wonder that both should possess information and refinement of no common order, or that an acquaintance commenced in the nursery, should in more ad vanced years assume the character of love in its most comprehensive signification.

Every circumstance by Avhich Reginald Avas surrounded was favourable to the develop ment and the fostering of a contemplative spirit and an imaginative turn of mind. He Avas deeply imbued with the chastening love of Greece and Rome, as well as the classics of his own country, and his boyhood Avas passed in that dreamy state Avhich marked the earlier years of the sages of old. There was nothing sordid around him to counteract the impressions produced by these circumstances, and his movements Avere perfectly unrestrained. For hours would he wander in the fields and Avild wood, listening to the strains of the feathered minstrels, Avith Avhom he had grown familiar, or tracing the hand of the living God in the varied shrubs Avhich flowered as his feet. And often, wdien wearied, would he sink to rest in some secluded spot, his senses steeped in melody and fragrance, and forms of ethereal beauty Avould stream upon his visions; or he would stray by the sea shore wdiere all before him was illimitable, and Avhich typified to his young mind, as far as a physical object could do, eternity in its boundlessness.

A glorious thing to behold is the ocean, so vast in elemental power, spurning the despotism of the things of earth, and ever heaving as with deep thought. And surpassing fair and picturesque is it to see at the horizon's verge the bark diminished by distance to fairy lineaments steal on the sight, and then fade away like some hope of our hoyhood, or some midnight melody, or to witness the soaring gull sweep across the liquid waste like a gleam of thought. No petty feeling can linger in the mind while gazing on the wdde waste of waters. In all his wanderings, whether on the pebbly beach or in the Avoodland, Reginald was ac companied by the fair companion of his infancy, a creature as feminine and lovely as the human mind could well conceive. As yet he had seen nothing which was calcu lated to excite more than a transitory suspicion that a large amount of selfishness influenced the conduct of the world.

He could feel the beauty of virtue in the works he studied, because they were impersonated in the character of his preceptor and Cecilia Merton; but he had only that vague conception of vice as an antithesis Avhich books convey, and Avhich fail to correct feeling or judgment. The mind cannot recognise abstractions, and both vice and virtue must be embodied, or dramatized, to be understood. Under all these circumstances, it is no wonder that the mind of Reginald Selwyn should assume a romantic tone, or that he should have that refined perception of harmo nies in the moral and material Avorld, together Avith an excessive sensibility, Avhich goes far to constitute that cluster of finer faculties which is called genius. The fact was he was a young man of considerable talent and literary attainments.

His faith in the power of the beautiful and the omnipotence of mind Avas deep and en during. If ever an aspiration Avas breathed by Reginald, it was that he might be ranked amongst the missionaries of intellect, Avhom he confidently believed were selected by the Creator to be the interpreters of His works, and to form a glittering link betAveen ethereal and human intelligence. Gifted, ardent, and enthusiastic — a child of thought and fancy, and reared in seclusion, he naturally looked forward to a literary life as the El Dorado of existence, which would yield him all the enjoyment of which his nature Avas susceptible. His love for Cecilia Merton, and his per ceptions of some moral or physical beauty, had given birth to occasional effusions of his pen, which were generally admired, and impressed him favourably respecting his abilities.

His success at the literary institution strengthened that belief into conviction. He resolved, there fore, to leave E , and embrace a literary life, as affording a genial occupation which opened a path to fame and wealth. At eighteen years of age, unless under extra ordinary circumstances, any shade in the future rarely lingers, and this is more particularly the case Avith such a constitution as Reginald's. He had his distrusts of success, but they were evanescent as a summer cloud, and left his hopes more vivid and bright from their temporary obscurity. _

Chapter III. The Disclosure

— AN EPISODE. The evening after Reginald had formed the determination of becoming a Avriter, he took an opportunity of communicating his vieAvs to his guardian. Mr. Merton received the intelligence Avith mingled feelings of astonishment and pain. As Reginald unfolded his plans, and de scribed, Avith all the ardour of youth and fancy, the glittering fabric of the future Avhich he had reared, Mr. Merton perceived, for the first time, that he had neglected an important duty to his charge, by allowing him to attain man hood Avithout giving any direction to his energies. He had too much knoAvledge of life not to see what little chance there Avas of Reginald's expectations being realized ; and he trembled at the trials which his adopted child might have to endure in the rude contact of life, armed only with integrity, and entirely unacquainted with the obverse side of human nature.

" My dear Reginald," said Mr. Merton, " I think you will give me credit for being in fluenced by no other desire towards you than to forward your interests, which I have endea voured to promote as if you were my own child, from the moment you were entrusted to my care." A look of gratitude and a warm pressure of the hand were Reginald's only reply, and Mr. Merton continued : " My dear boy, no one can think more highly of you than I do. I helieve you possess an amount of learning rarely acquired by one so young, and that you have intellect of a high order. Were these qualifications, per se, sufficient to ensure the success they deserve, I would rejoice at your determination." '■ Dear father," for so he Avas accustomed to call Mr. Merton, said Reginald, " surely you cannot doubt that talent and industry, with a strict adherence to our duty to God, will secure success?

Tou have told me of several instances illustrative of this. Was not Sir John Baincroft a poor sizar, and is he not now on the bench?" " True, my dear Reginald," replied Mr. Merton. " The distinguished ornament of his profession to Avhom you allude, started in life under unfavourable circumstances; but you must consider that he had a profession Avhich affords greater chance of success than literature. A laAvyer is necessarily versed in a description of learning which is of a practical character, being in daily demand. His pro fession also gives him a knowledge of human nature, a lore, which, of all others, is the best calculated to forward those who have to labour for a livelihood." " But," said Reginald, "you have told me of several cases Avhere position and wealth were attained by men who had nothing to depend upon but their literary exertions."

" My dear Reginald," said Mr. Merton, " there is no doubt that every profession aud avocation of life afford instances of reAvard decreed to merit; but I believe they bear a very small proportion to the cases Avhere success has resulted from extraneous circumstances. This is peculiarly the case in litera ture. That profession resembles a lottery ; tlie prizes are chronicled, the blanks have no record. Your literary aspirant is dazzled by the instances of success Avhich are blazoned forth; but he hears nothing of the cases of failure, the struggles with sordid circumstances Avhich the literary man can neither influence nor control, and the adversity with which he has to contend, and Avhich too frequently over- Avhelms him." " And yet," interposed Reginald, " I have often heard you say Avith the Athenian orator, that everything consisted in energy — not in the vulgar sense of the term, but as Demos thenes intended to convey, namely, the entire devotion to the work in which you are en gaged — the putting forth of all your faculties on any subject in which you desire to excel."